


Torture of a different kind

by Ja_Levi



Series: Dysfunctional but it works [5]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Awkward Flirting, Crack Treated Seriously, Fluff, I Don't Even Know, Light Angst, M/M, Minor Injuries, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:21:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26138791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ja_Levi/pseuds/Ja_Levi
Summary: After the torture he caused Will, Will decides to pay him back, with torture of a different kind.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Series: Dysfunctional but it works [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1883170
Kudos: 11





	1. One in the same

**Author's Note:**

> It doesn't seen finished, because it isn't, but I'm too lazy to finish it. I know I have other works to update, but Levi is on it, please be patient.
> 
> -Ja ✨

Groaning as he blinks awake, Hannibal tries to move. However when he tries to lift his hands, he finds himself strapped down to a soft and large white mattress. Tilting his head, he ignores the dull aching that shoots through his body. When Hannibal's eyes fall upon dilated ones, the aching in his entire being seems to become not so dull.

Will blinks twice in quick succession and then leans forwards in the armchair he's currently sitting in, his movements stiff due to a crippled looking leg. "Well, at least you're alive," Will muses, his voice almost amused at the older man, who can already tell that his own bruises are quite simple. He knows that he's got a broken leg and scars on his back, at the minimum. He can tell the unfortunate fate of his leg just from a quick yet awkwardly angled glance down at himself.

Hannibal tries once more to sit up and this time Will places a hand onto the mattress, right next to one of Hannibal's roped down ankles. "There's a reason that you are tied down, Hannibal. I haven't yet identified if you have any more drastic or otherwise injuries. I couldn't have you rolling around and then falling off of the bed in your sleep. That would've caused more damage to yourself."

Almost grimacing, Hannibal lies back in defeat. "How lovely. You are less hidden now with your actions of caring for me." Snickering lowly, Will moves his hand from just resting on the mattress to tracing shapes into Hannibal's ankle, just where slight skin is showing. 

"Well, what do I have to hide? And who do I have to hide it from? You know, I'd say that it's almost narcissistic to believe that every touch of attention I give you is of a nurturing nature just because I supposedly care about you. What if it just means that I'm not completely and as far detached from my humanity as you are? What if I tell you that my actions just portray the fact that I don't like others in distress?"

"Then I would call you a liar, Mister Graham," Hannibal says, an almost cheekiness to his tone as his eyes begin to fixate onto the ceiling, which has painted swirls of no particular pattern as its design. It irritates him in a way that he can't quite understand.

"For you became as detached as I did, just mere months ago. You can not lie to me. You can try to lie, and you can try to deceive. However, you took off your person suit, you hung it up on the back of my door and you have let me see you beneath that suit. Now that you are naked to me, I can see you clearly, Will. Just as clearly as you can see me."

Humming slightly as he suddenly grips Hannibal's ankle, Will seemingly smirks. He tightens his grip and digs his nails into Hannibal's exposed skin, waiting for the feeling of the full bodied shudder Hannibal gives as he tenses up the best he can while covered in ribbon ropes. 

"I can indeed see you, Mister Lecter. Yet I almost refuse to. You are a mad man, posing as a psychiatrist. But you are an unprofessional mad man when you pose. You pose like the French and put on a show, and you put yourself on display with your unprofessionalism. You are so unprofessional and so unable to control yourself that you, Mister Lecter, were unable to prevent yourself from falling in love with me."

Lecter feels his body start to grow floaty and cold, as if submerged in water, the swirls on the ceiling looking like they are staring to dance within his vision. "You have known that I have been in love with you for a long time. Then you coldly rejected me. More than just the once, I feel almost quite obliged to add." 

Rolling his eyes, Will heaves himself off of the armchair, manoeuvring himself carefully so that he's soon sitting on the edge of the mattress, the springs creaking slightly under the newly added on weight. He avoids sitting on any of the ropes that are tying Hannibal down and he then holds Hannibal's non broken leg with an unslacking hold, not just for balance but also for leverage. It simulates control over Hannibal, a control that he can't refute nor refuse.

"What did you expect me to do when I figured out your feelings for me? Run up to you and kiss your lips with a brazen passion? Those very same lips that sweet talked my mind into framing myself for murder? Or were you perhaps even hoping that I would grace you with wholesome affection and lavish you with unending love, even after you set my brain so alight that I could not differentiate between reality and hallucination?"

Hannibal feels the corners of his lips twitch downwards into a frown and he closes his eyes, almost as if to block out Will's voice, which sounds jaringly close to mocking him. It makes Hannibal want to lock himself up behind see through walls in a poor attempt at protection, because he knows that at this point that no matter what walls he'll put up, Will will now always see through him. 

"I didn't expect anything. Love makes you hope. I had a hope, but not any expectations. Humans are mainly predictable, but I never wanted to predict you. You were above any prediction and expectation I could possibly ever think of. You still are. You can not be dissected. Well, you can be, of course. Yet I don't want to put you on my table to dissect you. You are no frog, Will. You are a human. You are more than that now, as you sit down on this mattress with me, letting your tongue run wild without a leash, merely because you fear no consequence. You are my equal."

Licking the roof of his mouth, Will gives himself a moment before he responds, his voice low and burning when he speaks. "As I should be. You owe me that much, Mister Lecter. And you owe me so much more as well," he says, a purring satisfaction in his tone. He grins widely when Hannibal reopens his eyes, glancing at Will the best he can.

Will shuffles closer slightly, moving his hand from Hannibal's leg to the mattress space right beside Hannibal's head. He leans over the other, his face directly hovering over Hannibal's. "You owe me not just respect and equality. You have destroyed my life more than just the once. You made me go insane. You entered my head, took it over and then you wouldn't get out."

Swallowing a small breath, Hannibal watches as Will's still dilated eyes flash a yellowish green, showing thinking and consideration. Will clicks and rolls his tongue, as if weighing something on it.

"Yet I wish to know, with no trickery involved; do you think of me so much that your mind has formed a hole for where my body shall fit inside the core of your memories and thoughts? Tell me; how bad does it ache to have me so close, yet you can't reach out for what you want?"

Hannibal frowns heavily and he tries yet again to tug at the ribbons holding him in place. "You didn't just tie me down for my safety, did you? No, you tied me down to mock me! To laugh at me!" Hannibal's voice is a sharp hiss and it makes Will's eyes light up in triumph.

Letting out a slight chuckle, Will replies to Hannibal's quietly outraged comment. "Not just to mock, not just to taunt. I did this to make you feel as maddened and as exposed as I have felt with your presence constantly looming over me. I intend to make you yearn for the day that we did not know each other."

A small breath leaves Hannibal as Will moves his other hand to cup Hannibal's cheek, stroking his thumb over the skin. "So what? Do you mean to torture me?" He whispers as he gazes into Will's eyes, which are slowly raking over his face. "In a sense," comes Will's response, his voice akin to a playful air.

Time seems to slow and the dull aching grows yet again less dull as Will traces Hannibal's lips with his thumb. Hannibal soon gets distracted from the faint pain when Will slowly presses his lips against the older man's, joining the two together.

A small hum catches in Will's throat as he slants his lips, pressing and grabbing Hannibal's lip between his teeth. He gives it a teasing nibble before he pulls away, his eyes darker with dilation. Letting out a tiny gasp, Hannibal clenches his fist. 

"This is the worst torture a man can provide. I can withstand physical pain, but to toy with my heart is so cruel. What kind of monster would you be to do this to me?" Shuffling slightly so that when he leans closer he doesn't rest on his crippled leg, Will gives Hannibal a predatory stare. "I would be you."


	2. Choose your poison

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love is too bitter; Blood is worth more.

Hannibal grits his teeth as Will mouths at his neck, Will's own teeth scraping against his skin. There's a slight heat to his cheeks and he tries to lift his legs to knock Will off of him. His broken leg lets off a slight crack and he holds back a grunt. A small feeling of betrayal fills him at Will's almost cruel actions and he tilts his head, his eyes half lidded with something akin to shame. "Will, get off me, this is not fair. I...want you to stop."

Will pulls away from Hannibal's neck and he raises an eyebrow, a lazy smirk resting on his lips. "Oh, are we going to discuss what is deemed as fair in this situation? Really? You do not have any right to try and claim what is fair or not," he comments before he goes back to suck and kiss at Hannibal's skin.

Feeling Hannibal tense up against the mattress, Will pulls away once more. "You know, I don't think that you've ever given anyone this much of a reaction to anything. You've never yelled at me, you've never been afraid of me, nothing. I wonder why you're so...frightened, almost. Surely this doesn't scare you?"

Letting out a hesitant breath, Hannibal tilts his head once again, this time looking back into Will's expectant gaze. "Because there is a such thing as too far. I don't want you to touch me, to kiss me, anything. You don't want to do this through reciprocation of my love. You are doing it as...a form of sick and twisted punishment of my affection for you."

Shuffling off of Hannibal, Will sits on the edge of the mattress, looking at Hannibal with an unreadable expression. "So you get to set my brain on fire and turn my world upside for the rest of my life, and I don't get to return the pain?" 

Clenching his fists subtly, Hannibal tries to tug out of his ropes, holding back a hiss as the ribbon rope rubs against his wrists uncomfortably. He pants faintly, showing the amount of effort that he's putting into trying to escape the restrains.

"Will, I'm not denying you the right to deal me my fair, fateful and righteous hand of cards. I'm just denying you the ability to use my heart against me in such a way as this. Just...please don't touch me. Not like this. Hurt me, and expose my blood, but don't take advantage of me."

Blinking, Will manages to hear traces of heart heavy pain lacing into Hannibal's words. "Hannibal, do you really think that I would do that to you? I know where to draw the line. I wouldn't rape you. I am not that kind of man."

A twitch runs through Hannibal's non-broken leg and he closes his eyes, taking in a small breath. "I never claimed that you would do that to me. I know what kind of man you are." Hannibal's voice is faint, showing that he's currently being defensive. 

Sighing a little bit, Will soon moves a hand into Hannibal's hair, gently stroking the greyish blonde strands inbetween his fingers. "It was implied very heavily. Would you prefer that I skin you slowly rather than..."

Hannibal nods before Will even finishes speaking. "Rather than tormenting me with things that I can not have. Rather than making me feel bare and ashamed. Rather than making me feel exposed and...weak."

Reopening his eyes, Hannibal glances once more at the ceiling. "I'd rather let you bleed me out than let you be intimate with my soul. I can always take it when you stab me, cut me and scar me. I will not be able to take it if you touch me and leave your scent clinging to my skin. I am not going to be melted down and molded around your body. Not like this."

Will shuffles a little bit closer once more, leaning down to the other's neck so he can inhale Hannibal's scent before he presses his lips against Hannibal's skin. He nuzzles Hannibal before he hums quietly. "Then talk to me, Hannibal. The punishment and reckoning are not supposed to be determined by the perpetrator, but I shall offer you a small mercy."

Taking in a deep breath, Hannibal feels his eyelids flutter shut for a brief moment. "I would rather you hurt me physically. Put your knife into my skin. Try and make me cry. Make me suffer. Carve a symbol into my flesh. Anything other than make me fall further in love with someone who does not love me."

A look akin to sympathy flashes into Will's eyes and he whispers gently into Hannibal's ear. "I have not yet decided if I am in love with you, but I do know that I love you. That is evident. For I can not let you go, and I can not live without you. In which way I love you is a mystery to me. But know that I love you. I obsess over you. I will tell you this once and once alone; I am possessive as much as I am obsessive. You are mine. I don't need to be in love with you to claim you. As my friend, as my enemy, as my companion; you are mine. Do you understand me?"

Nodding his head against the mattress, Hannibal swallows a lump in his throat weakly. "I understand you," he responds, his voice cracking faintly. His poise is cracked and his broken leg ticks. Will pulls away once more from Hannibal and he nods to himself, seemingly satisfied with Hannibal's response.

Will climbs off of the makeshift bed and he leaves the room, his footsteps tapping into the distance. There's slight tears in Hannibal's eyes as his thoughts race over Will's words. "He loves me, to an unknown degree. But he doesn't hurt nor numbify as much as I do. That's what is considered as fair. It's all fair, in this game, is it not? It...must be. This is what is called...justice."

"And it hurts, as justice and as pain should. Yet it is just and it is righteous," Will's voice taunts and echoes from the hallway as the owner of said voice walks back to the room, twirling a small steak blade inbetween his finger tips.

Hannibal blinks away his tears hastily, willing himself to act as he should; calm and collected. He knows better than to let his emotions show. Tensing his hands as Will stalks closer, thumb stroking the knife blade, Hannibal stills his suddenly beating heart so that Will can not sense the fight and flight inside of him. At least, that's what he tries to do, yet his pulse only dulls, his thumping heart still as loud in his ears as to when it started speeding up.

However when Will slowly leans down to press the flat of the knife against his neck, he knows that his heart is trying to escape his chest, banging against his ribcage. A thought wanders into his brain, as if to distract him from the cold steel in Will's hand. 

'My heart is probably going so hard and fast that it is most likely playing my ribs like a xylophone, high and faint sounds of discomfort making the rhythm of the night as you stand over me, my life under you knife. I want to know how you will slice me. And I want to know if it'll be worth it. Is loving you worth being strapped in place? Are you worth my blood?'

These thoughts remain inside of his head, no matter how badly he wishes to voice them. He keeps silent until he feels his skin break. A surprised gasp leaves him as he feels a trickle of blood drip down from his new wound. He was too unfocused on the moment to pin point where and when Will started to press the blade into him, but now he is brought back to the current moment.

Blood dribbles down his lower neck and he slumps weakly, finally accepting the fact that he is now powerless. He has no control. He's malleable underneath Will's hand, his blade. And by the smirk on Will's face, he's guessing that Will knows this. Will knows that he's the boss. He knows that he is the viper, poisoning Hannibal's veins. 

Will's entire being is surrounding Hannibal, as if he's a snake and he only tightens the coil around the older man as he digs the blade in deeper. He grins; fangs bared.


End file.
